Dirty Weekend
by r4ven3
Summary: An AU Harry & Ruth story set some time between Havensworth and 5.5. This story, of 6 chapters, takes place between a Friday evening, and the following Monday morning.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This story takes place between Havensworth and 5.5. Harry & Ruth, with a couple of ring-ins of my own making. All Spooks characters and plots belong to Kudos.**_

_**I began this story with the intention of writing a T-rated one shot, and I ended up with 6 chapters of M rating. So much for self-discipline and good intentions. This is what happens when I tell myself that I'll write at least one story which isn't M-rated. This one goes from T, to mild M, to very M.**_

_**As usual, the spooky plot is paper-thin, and just a flimsy device to bring our favourite couple together.**_

* * *

When she reached their corridor, Ruth almost broke into a run. Third door on the right. She opened it as quietly as she could, and slipped inside the room. It was only when she leaned her back against the closed door that she breathed properly, letting out a deep sigh.

"Lock the door, Ruth," she heard a deep voice say from the bed. "You don't know who might be creeping around the corridors."

"I know exactly who's creeping around these corridors."

She took a deep breath, and walked slowly towards the bed. They had agreed that they would share a bed. Sir Laurence and Lady Phillippa Barber were wealthy enough to have staff, and the staff would no doubt be reporting to them about sleeping arrangements. Fortunately the bed was big …... huge, in fact. Two couples could sleep in it, and they'd still have room to spare.

By the time Ruth reached the bed, she could make out Harry's silhouette against the white of the pillows. His arms beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt were strong and muscular.

"Where were you when I needed you, Harry?"

"Did he try something?"

Ruth noticed him sit up straight, and then he slid out of bed and walked past her to the door. She heard the key turn in the lock, and then he returned to the bed and sat on it, patting the mattress beside him.

"Sit down, Ruth. You look like you could do with a debrief."

Harry reached over to turn on the lamp beside the bed, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm. His arm stopped in mid-air, and stayed there, her hand still resting on his muscled forearm. She momentarily wondered how it would feel to have that arm curve around her, drawing her to him. She knew she shouldn't be entertaining such thoughts. This was work, and thus far it wasn't going very well.

Harry dropped his arm, and slid closer to the head of the bed to make room for her. Carefully, she sat down beside him, resisting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder, waiting for those arms to enfold her and keep her safe.

"What happened?" As if he didn't know. Sir Laurence was slimy, and had been watching Ruth all evening. "Did he try something?"

"Sort of. He kept plying me with drinks, which I declined, stating I was tired. I will never again use the excuse that I'm tired with a man like that."

Ruth waited, as Harry sat beside her, watching her. She turned to face him, seeing him more clearly now her eyes had adjusted to the dark. Harry wore a pale blue t-shirt, and dark-coloured track pants. Her eyes move over him quickly, but not too quickly. She saw the shape of him beneath the soft material of his track pants. His thighs looked sturdy and strong, and he had a healthy-looking bulge between his legs. She quickly looked away. She hoped she'd be able to sleep, knowing he was lying in bed next to her.

"He suggested we go and inspect the stables. He made some comment about the stallions – you know the sort of thing – and then he lunged at me."

Harry said nothing, so Ruth looked back at him. She'd expected to see anger or outrage, but what she saw was something else …... something difficult to define.

"If he does anything like that again," Harry said quietly, "text me, and I'll come to get you."

"And then I'll never get anything out of him. We'll have gone through this for nothing."

"Is being here that much of a chore, Ruth?"

"It is when I have to fight off a 70-year-old letch. His hands were strong, too."

"Did he hurt you?" Harry's voice was quiet, and beneath his words she detected an undercurrent of threat.

She turned her body on the mattress so that she faced him, and then she pulled the neckline of her dress aside to expose bruise marks on her shoulder, left by the bony fingers of Sir Laurence. Also exposed was the strap of her black bra, and the edge of lace along the top of the bra's cup. She hoped Harry would view her injury through professional eyes. When she looked up at him, he was about to touch the bruise with his own fingers, but he quickly put his hand on his knee, and clenched his fingers.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes wandering to her bra, and the lace which was exposed by her having pulled aside her dress. Ruth could tell that he was having difficulty in maintaining distance from her, and so she pulled the neckline of her dress up, so covering the bruises, as well as her bra.

"Only when I move my arm. I think I'll get ready for bed now. I'm tired."

Ruth got up and went to the bathroom to change, and prepare herself for bed. When she slid under the eiderdown on her side of the bed, Harry was lying on his side, facing her, his eyes open, his head resting on his arm. Ruth was dressed for bed in sensible, body-hiding flannelette pyjamas. Her curves were hidden beneath the shapelessness of the design of the garments. She had a suspicion that it was not only Sir Laurence who appreciated what he saw.

"We're going to have to employ another strategy, Ruth," he said quietly.

"I'd like to have a look around the stables, but I don't want Sir Laurence to be my guide. I have an idea."

"Are you gong to tell me about it?"

"It can wait until morning."

Ruth closed her eyes, aware that Harry was watching her, keeping an eye on her, protecting her.

"It's not your fault, Harry."

"What?"

"What happened tonight."

"It is, Ruth. I left you alone with that man, presuming he'd behave like a gentleman."

"Did you see him watching me all through dinner?"

When Harry didn't reply to her question, she opened her eyes to see him watching her with a pained expression.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice strangled. He rolled on to his back before he continued to speak. "I wanted to kill him …... for looking at you like that. I just hadn't expected him to …... do that to you." When Ruth turned to look at him, his eyes were open, and he was staring at the ceiling. "Despite him …... looking at you in that way, I still believed him to be a gentleman... and I was almost certain he'd let his guard down with you."

"Perhaps you should have brought Ros with you on this op, Harry. She would have kicked him right where it hurt."

"Can you really see Ros and me being believable as a couple?"

"Perhaps not."

"Besides, you heard what Adam said, didn't you?"

"Yes," she breathed, "he said we were believable as a couple because there was already something between us."

"Which is true. You know it's true, Ruth. I was under the mistaken belief that Larry – as he insisted I call him – would not mess with you because he could see that we were …... together. I thought we were believable tonight …... as a couple."

"We were, Harry. When you kissed me before you went up to bed …..."

"Was that too much?"

"No. It was just right."

"You know that you responded, Ruth …... when I kissed you. I had to pull away from you, otherwise I would never have been able to leave you there with him. You meant that kiss. I could sense it."

The darkness in the room had created a blanket of anonymity, and Harry had become bold. Ruth was still unsure how she felt about this. They were on an operation to discover whether Sir Laurence Barber had a cache of automatic weapons in the storage bunker under the stables behind the main house, and if he did, what organisation – of the many organisations he was involved in – would benefit. They only had two days and two nights in which to find out one way or another. Harry had volunteered for the assignment, being the one on the team closest to Sir Laurence's age, and both he and Sir Laurence had had a military background. Ruth was the obvious choice as his companion for the weekend. Adam had been in favour of storming the property with guns blazing, but Harry and Ros had talked him out of it. This assignment had thrown Harry and Ruth together in a way that Ruth had so far managed to avoid.

"Yes," she replied.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Harry, I meant it when I kissed you back."

"So …... that begs the question …... why did you run from me that night at the hotel?"

"Harry …... we're meant to be on an op here. This conversation has now become personal."

"All our conversations are personal, Ruth. We can't avoid it."

Ruth lay on her back under the eiderdown beside Harry, although there was a decent space between them. To touch one another, one of them would have to reach out. If she was being honest with herself, Ruth would like to have been sharing this bed with Harry under different circumstances, and she was now almost certain that he would also.

"Is the room bugged?" she asked at last.

"No. I checked. No bugs, no cameras. When Malcolm remotely checked the property, he said there were cameras outside the main gate, in Larry's office, and in and around the stables. There are a lot of cameras inside the stables. His livestock is very valuable. However, there are no audio bugs anywhere."

Ruth was aware that she was overtired, and that the tears she felt welling in her eyes may have been tears of distress after her long day, which had begun at 5.30 am.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said at last, sniffing back her tears.

"Whatever for?" She felt him again turn to face her.

"I messed up this operation before it has even begun."

She wiped her fingers over her eyes, and when she opened them again, Harry was leaning rather close to her. "If anything, it was I who should have ensured you took some lessons in self defence, but we only had those few hours to prepare. I'm not leaving you alone with that slime again."

Without thinking it through beforehand, Harry leaned down and put his lips on hers. It was a soft and gentle kiss. Without thinking about how this may affect the op they were on, Ruth responded instinctively by putting her hand behind Harry's head, and pulling him closer.

In the end, it was he who pulled away. "That's enough, Ruth. We have some replanning to do in the morning. Goodnight."

He turned from her, and lay on his side, his back facing her. What Ruth didn't know, as she lay in silence in the dark, watching Harry's back, was that he was having extreme difficulty in not throwing the rule book out the window, and following the desire which was surging through his body. This was neither the time nor the place, and he had overstepped the mark when he'd kissed her goodnight.

Eventually they slept, but the unexpressed desire which arced between the two of them kept them both awake – and silent - for some time.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers. Those of you who take time out to leave a review are truly kind._**

* * *

Unaccustomed to sleeping with another, both Harry and Ruth were awake before dawn. Ruth opened her eyes just as he entered the room from the bathroom, fully dressed and smelling wonderful.

"Good morning," he said, smiling at her, the tension from the night before apparently forgotten, or (most likely) suppressed.

Ruth sat up in bed, blinking in the daylight which streamed through the window.

Harry's smile widened as she stretched and yawned. He thought he'd never seen her more beautiful, more desirable. He immediately suppressed that thought. Today was to be a crucial day. If they played their cards right, they may not even have to stay here another night. A part of him was saddened by that possibility. When he awoke before dawn, Ruth had moved over towards him during the night, and their feet were entwined under the eiderdown, and her face was close to his as she slept. He'd watched her sleeping for a minute or two, but when he felt his body responding to her proximity, he quickly got out of bed, and headed for the shower. Perhaps when they got back to London …... he had hopes, but this was Ruth, so he had a need to tread carefully.

* * *

Around mid morning, Harry met Lady Phillippa at the stables, and she showed him the horses, citing the bloodlines of each animal, leaving his head spinning. This was serious horseflesh, and this woman knew everything there was to know about each horse. Harry only had no opportunity to wander off alone, as they were accompanied at all times by John, the stable manager, and there were numerous other workers milling around the stables. Harry got a strange vibe from some of them, like they were not there for the horses. He took a mental note of a long corridor between two of the stalls, since it was the only corridor blocked by two sturdy men in suits. They were hardly dressed for working with horses.

"Do you shoot, Alan?" she asked him, looking down her thin nose at him, as though she suspected he did nothing more exciting than climb into his car and go to work each day.

Harry grinned at her, relieved that she had asked. "I do indeed, Lady Phillippa. I take it you ride and shoot. Alas, the horses of the world are safer if I refrain from approaching them with the intention of riding them."

They two of them were about to climb into her battered jeep and drive to their private shooting range, when Harry asked did she mind if he rang Ruth.

"Amelia is feeling a bit poorly this morning," he said. "I told her to go back to our room after breakfast, so I need to check she's alright."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about her," Lady Phillippa said haughtily. "All our staff have first aid training. We don't employ them without it."

"I still need to talk to her," Harry persisted. "She'll expect me to."

"You need to remove that ring from your nose, dear boy. You shouldn't let a woman lead you around like that, or is it something else she holds while she leads you around? I noticed the looks you were giving her at dinner last night. You need to let her know who's boss."

Harry turned from his hostess, and rang Ruth's phone. When I went to voicemail, he tried again. This time he left a brief message for her to ring him. It was possible she was sleeping …... possible, but unlikely. He'd suggested she remain in the house, and in their room, feigning illness, chiefly so that she could maintain a view of the front entrance to the house from the balcony. She was to report to him by phone should she sight any unusual activity. He tried her number again an hour and a half later, after he and Lady Phillippa had tried out the range of pistols she kept under lock and key at the shooting range. It was then that Lady Phillippa mentioned that the shooting range was in a `black spot' for mobile phone reception.

"Sometimes our phones work here, but mostly they don't. If you're concerned about her, then perhaps you should go back to the house," Lady Phillippa suggested, keeping her eyes on the pistol she had in her hand.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked.

"Not at all. Take the jeep. I need practice. You beat me hands down, and I'm not used to that. I can walk back. It's only two miles."

Harry hoped he'd still be capable of walking two miles when he reached 72. Lady Phillippa was very competitive, blunt, observant, but not in an unpleasant way. Harry decided that he would not like her as an enemy. He suspected she would fight dirty. She had on her earmuffs and was back to shooting at the target, so Harry left.

He drove far too fast down the narrow road which ran between the house and the shooting range. He pulled up outside the front door, and was let in by one of the many staff members. He almost ran up the stairs, and when he opened the door to their bedroom, he stepped into a darkened room.

"Amelia?" he said, only aware as the door closed behind him that he'd stepped into a trap.

"Alan, don't come in here!" Ruth's voice was high and strained, and tense.

It was too late. They had chosen to visit the Barbers without weapons, secreted or otherwise. Their only protection was a call to Malcolm three times a day – at 7 am, 2 pm and 9 pm. Were they to miss even one call in, within fifteen minutes of the missed call CO19 would be despatched to investigate, probably with all guns blazing. It was just after 1.20 pm, and so they would be expected to call in 40 minutes.

Harry was pushed into the room from behind, and restrained by two pairs of strong arms. Harry was strong for his size and his age, but he was no match for the two men who held him, his arms pushed high behind his back. He was searched roughly by another pair of hands, and his phone was taken from the pocket in his chinos. These people seemed to have no idea he and Ruth were MI-5. Had they had an inkling of who they really were, they would have known that a phone was their way of reporting to base. Had these people known he and Ruth were MI-5, they would no doubt already be dead.

"Get in there and have something to eat," said a disembodied, accented voice, "and don't ever complain that we've treated you badly. Sir Laurence prides himself on being a convivial host."

Harry almost laughed aloud at the words `convivial host'. The old sod had been anything but convivial towards Ruth. In the voice of one of his captors he detected the clipped and flat accent of a South African – someone whose first language was Afrikaans. The other voice, which he had heard say, `yes, boss', sounded like John, the manager of the stables. How many staff did Sir Laurence employ? Whatever his business was, it was highly lucrative.

Harry was pushed into the room with a warning to not turn on lights, or open the curtain.

"You open that curtain, and Jerry has permission to shoot you," said the South African. "Jerry is on the balcony, and he's armed and twitchy."

When the door shut behind him, and the key was turned in the lock from the other side, Harry moved closer to the bed, searching for Ruth. He needed to know she was alright.

"Amelia?" he said quietly. "Tell me where you are."

He heard Ruth cough and then sniff, as though she'd been crying. Harry climbed on to the bed, and moved towards the lump curled up on top of the eiderdown. He lay down beside her, and put his head close to hers.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. She sounded like she was sobbing quietly to herself. "Have they hurt you?" Harry could feel his blood beginning to boil.

"I'm alright …... really." Ruth's voice was only a whisper. "I'm having to act all snivelly because I'm acting according to my legend. After all, I'm supposed to be your bit on the side. If I act too able, that will raise their suspicions. I need you to know that I don't like this one little bit. As far as I can tell, they don't suspect us, but something is about to happen. I heard them talking in Afrikaans."

Harry sighed, and reached across to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry about this."

"We have to keep our voices down. I'm not sure, but I think they put a bug in the lamp. I saw the South African guy fiddling with the lamp before he turned it off. I didn't tell them anything. We have to act like lovers, Harry, so whispering to one another is quite natural." Ruth turned her head to look at him, her eyes dark pools in the low light. "I'd really like a cuddle."

"Is that a real cuddle, or a fake one?" Harry whispered.

"A real one. I've been rather frightened. They've held me here for over an hour, all the time waving guns around. I think they were waiting for you to come back to the house. There are sandwiches on the table, but I can't eat anything. Something's about to happen - in the stables."

"Shit," he said, his voice rising, as he put his arms around her, and pulled her close to him. Here he was, locked in a bedroom with Ruth, with the operation about to go tits up, and he could do nothing about it ... no gun, no comms, no back-up. On the other hand, he was lying on a bed with Ruth, and she was upset, and she needed him. He told himself he had no choice. Ruth was an important member of his team, and he needed to take care of her. He put his hands on her back and pulled her closer, until her face was against his shoulder. Her body felt warm and soft against his. He knew he was stepping over a line, but what else could he do?

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Alan …..." she said, "we have to act like they'd expect us to act. They have no idea who we are. I don't think they'll hurt us. They're treating us like house guests who need to be kept out of the way."

"Ruth -"

"Amelia. Call me Amelia."

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. This weekend wasn't supposed to be like this."

Harry stroked her hair, and then Ruth felt his lips touch her temple, gently at first.

"I don't know how long they'll keep us here, Alan. Did you find out anything from Lady Phillippa?"

Harry lifted his lips from her temple, and placed his mouth close to her ear. "Lady Pippa is the horsie one, and she's also rather handy with a pistol. I sense that she's the one in charge. I'm not sure what Larry's role is, other than to look after the money. I can't see either of them going out and drumming up business as arms dealers. There has to be someone else involved ... someone high up."

He felt Ruth turn in his arms, so that she lay on her back. Since his arms were still around her, he loosened them slightly, and moved his body so that he lay beside her, but his upper body was lying over her. He was not an automaton. He could not lie this close to Ruth and feel nothing. His head lay on the pillow next to hers.

"Amelia …..." he spoke quietly, his mouth still close to her ear, "I'm experiencing …..."

"Arousal," she said. "I know, I can feel it. I don't mind, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed."

"Okay." Harry swallowed, aware that each time one of them moved, his body became even more aroused. "My body has a mind of its own, Ruth. I'm sorry."

"Amelia," she whispered. "Don't be sorry. It feels …... comforting."

"_Christ_."

"How long do you think it is since they locked us in?"

"Maybe 20, 30 minutes. I'm not sure. I wish I knew what's going on out there."

"The one called Jonty said something in Afrikaans about the shipment being picked up. Those were his words ….. _die verskeping is opgetel vandag_ …... the shipment is being picked up today …... that's a literal translation from the Afrikaans."

"Who was he talking to?"

"He was on his phone."

"Clever girl." Harry moved his head slightly, and kissed her on the mouth. The kiss was gentle and chaste, but when Ruth opened her mouth beneath his, chaste became sensual, and then sensual became sexual.

Harry moaned into her mouth, pressing his body closer to her, aware that she'd be able to feel his erection hard against her thigh as he pressed himself against her. He no longer cared. He wanted her now, but he knew that his timing was appalling, and that they'd never be able to go through with this. He also knew that sexual arousal tended to cloud his thinking, as all the available blood in his brain rushed to lower in his body. He pulled away from her, putting a little distance between them.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he said quietly, no longer concerned that were there an audio bug, and his words could be heard. "I need to keep my head clear, and this …..."

"This is nice," she said. "You're lovely."

Emboldened, he again reached for her, and pressed himself hard against her. He put his lips on her throat, and planted gentle kisses on her skin, down her neck, and then back up her collar bone to her shoulder. He pushed aside her shirt to expose the bruising from the night before. His lips were soft as he placed light kisses over the bruised skin.

"Are you still playing a part?" Ruth asked him, her lips close to his ear.

He shook his head as his mouth moved down her shoulder and reached the top of her bra. He nipped her skin lightly with his teeth, and then lifted his head to look at her. "I stopped playing a part long ago. This is me kissing you."

Her eyes were dark, as she stared at him. She lifted her fingers to her shirt buttons, and began opening them one by one. As Ruth exposed her bra, and the tops of her breasts above her bra, he slid his free hand under the hem of her skirt, and ran his hand up her inside thigh, and then back to her knee. He allowed his fingers to lightly caress the skin of her inner thigh, while he kissed the top of her breast nearest her bruising, just above her bra. Without giving it very much thought, he allowed his fingers to glide up her inner thigh until he reached her underwear. He gently touched her outside her underwear, and he could feel how hot she was, and how wet. He sighed as she moaned quietly. He eased one finger under the material of her knickers, and he slid it back and forth across her folds, which were slippery with her arousal. This time it was he who moaned, deep in his throat, as he realised that this was as far as he could allow this to go.

What had shocked him the most was that Ruth had offered no resistance, no opposition. She was allowing him to touch her in an intimate way. _ Dear God!_

He suddenly realised how inappropriate was his behaviour, and how he may have been putting Ruth in danger. They were on an operation, and despite the operation now being totally in the hands of others, they should not have been doing this. He had dreamed of something like this with her, but in his daydreams they were lying on her bed, or his, somewhere quiet and private. They were not locked in a bedroom in a manor house in Berkshire, while outside the room they had no idea what was going down. He pulled his body away from her, afraid he was about to lose complete control.

Suddenly they heard shots, somewhere at a distance, outside the house.

Harry sat up quickly, and began to fasten Ruth's shirt buttons.

"Playtime is over," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

No sooner had Harry stepped off the bed and adjusted his clothing than two shots rang out closer to them, and the bedroom window shattered, sending glass across the carpet between the bed and the window.

Harry stood beside the bed and looked across at Ruth, now perched against the pillows on the side closest to the window. "Are you alright?" he asked, rather abruptly.

"I think so." She lifted her arms, and saw no blood there. She looked across at Harry, and all she saw on his face was concern for her.

"You have a little bit of blood …... here," he said, putting a finger to his cheek.

Ruth touched her cheek and felt a trickle of blood, so she grabbed a tissue from the box by the bed and wiped her cheek. There was a small streak of blood on the tissue. Meanwhile, Harry had moved quickly to the curtains, and pulled them aside just enough to see the guard – the infamous Jerry - stretched out on the balcony, blood pooling around his head, as it rested against the shattered window, and his firearm – an automatic – lying close to the french window. Slowly and carefully, Harry opened the doors and reached for the weapon, pulling it back into the room. Once he stood up, he saw, in the circular driveway at the front of the house, several vehicles lined up, and he recognised CO19 uniforms on the men running across the lawn towards the house. Another two vehicles were headed past the house towards the stables.

"The cavalry are here," he said, as he stood up, holding the weapon.

He moved to the bed, and sat down beside Ruth. She was now sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling her body for injuries.

"It's just my cheek," she said, looking at him.

On the floor between the window and the bed was a smattering of shattered glass.

"Here, I'll get your shoes," Harry said. "There's not a lot of glass inside, but you don't want to be stepping on any."

"What about you?"

"I had my shoes on all along."

"You mean …... when we were …... doing that …... you still had your shoes on?"

"I had to be prepared for anything, Ruth." He smiled at her, touching his finger to the small cut on her cheek. His eyes dropped to her neck, just above the collar of her shirt. "You have another small nick there." He indicated the spot with his finger, and touched the cut, brushing away the blood.

"How do we let them know we're here?" Ruth asked.

"I'm hoping that Adam has conveyed our position to them. I gave him the position of our room when I first rang in last night."

* * *

Forty minutes later, Harry and Ruth were in the back seat of a car being driven by Adam Carter. In the front seat beside Adam was Jo. Harry wanted to sit closer to Ruth, and perhaps hold her hand, but there would be time for that later. Until they left Thames House that evening, they were still officially on duty.

"You two sure know how to live dangerously," Jo commented as they drove through the gates, leaving the Barber property behind them. "That woman put up a fight."

"How is she?" asked Harry. His main concern, from the night before, had been for Ruth.

"She'll live. She's a tough old buzzard. One of the CO19 guys had to knock her to the ground to get the pistol off her. She was waving it around, threatening to shoot him."

"She would have, too. I'm glad she'll live to fight another day," Harry said. "I rather liked her. She doesn't deserve a husband like Larry."

"Nor a son like Hugo."

"Who was it cottoned on to Hugo Barber being the chief gunrunner in the family?"

"It was Malcolm," Adam replied, giving Harry a quick look in the rear view mirror. "He did a movement assessment of all the members of the Barber family, including Hugo, along with Hugo's wife and teenage son, and he discovered that he'd had made three visits to Johannesburg in the past five months, and Jonty van Vuuren had made two to the UK during the same period of time. After that, all Malcolm had to do was find both Hugo and Jonty. CO19 were brought in just after midday."

"So why wasn't I informed of this as it was happening? Ruth was held captive in our room for over an hour."

"We tried Ruth's mobile, because she was in the house, but it was turned off. We found out later that the shooting range is out of range of mobile reception, so we couldn't contact you, Harry. We suspect the old girl took you out there specifically to keep you out of mobile phone range, but mainly to keep you away from the house, and away from Ruth." Jo turned in her seat to look at both Harry and Ruth. Privately she thought they were really cute together, but she wished Harry would hold Ruth's hand, or do something other than look so miserable. "From around 10.30 this morning, this operation began to take a totally different turn."

"Yeah, sorry you two," said Adam over his shoulder. "I know you wanted the glory, but altogether there were three caches of weapons, not only the one under the stables at the Barber property. It had become too dangerous to leave it with you two. There were dudes with guns crawling all over the place. Next time, we'll just raid the place with lots of guys with automatic weapons. We'll kick up a din, and scare the shit out of them."

"Which will no doubt result in unnecessary loss of life," Harry said, his voice clipped and impatient.

* * *

Back at Thames House, Harry went straight to his office, while Ruth joined Malcolm as he began to put together a cohesive report of the intel he'd uncovered which had led to three successful and coordinated raids. Ruth reviewed the intel she'd scanned over the two days prior to she and Harry going to the Barber mansion, and she still found nothing to corroborate the South African connection. She felt annoyed that she had somehow missed it, even though it had only been discovered in the hours prior to the raid on the Barber property in Berkshire.

Maybe she'd been working too hard, and she was too tired for thinking straight. By 5.30 her mind was beginning to wander. She found herself thinking far too much about what she and Harry had been doing at the moment that shooting broke out in the yard. It had been dark in their room, and it seemed that when they were in the dark, she and Harry felt bold enough to make moves towards one another. Maybe that was the key to it all. Find a dark place, begin snogging, and see what eventuates. Ruth smiled as she remembered those intense minutes with Harry, during which she had been fully prepared to go with him wherever he was headed. He had felt _so good_... and his fingers …...

Ruth looked up to Harry's office, and saw him looking at her. As a slow smile softened his face, Ruth couldn't help but smile back at him. They held one another's eyes until Ruth heard Jo's voice from behind her shoulder.

"You two," she said. "You should get a room."

"We did," Ruth replied, perhaps too quickly. "We had a room together at the Barber house."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"That good, huh? He might be an old guy, but Harry looks like a goer to me."

"A _goer_?"

"It's a word my dad uses. He usually reserves it for women whom he thinks might be up for it, but sometimes he uses it to describe men of his age – like Harry – who he thinks might …... you know."

"No, Jo, I don't."

"Do I have to spell it out to you, Ruth?"

"Yes …... although I'm sure I'll regret it."

"It means that Harry looks like he might be quite good at it. Not that I'm interested, mind you. He's far too old for me to be interested, but it's obvious he and you are …... well, you know what I mean."

Jo left before she had to explain herself further. No sooner had Jo left than Ruth's desk phone rang.

"Did Jo's little speech significantly add to the sum total of the world's body of wisdom?"

"No, Harry. I think she was trying to tease me. Us."

"_Us_?"

"She knows we shared a room at the Barber mansion. You can imagine the rest."

"Do these people have nothing better to talk about?"

"Obviously not. Our sharing a room has given them fodder for gossip for days to come. Maybe weeks, months even."

Harry hesitated, and Ruth looked up to see him staring at her. "Then it's a good thing they don't know what happened."

"Nothing happened, Harry," Ruth said quietly and carefully.

"I know, but something almost happened."

Ruth felt her face flush at the memory. She was sure she could still feel Harry's lips on her own, and his fingers skilfully exploring underneath her underwear. Jo was right. Harry _was_ a goer. Ruth couldn't stay on the phone to Harry with such thoughts and memories. She hung up quickly, and rested her face in her hands. She had to go home. She was overtired. She needed sleep. She was almost asleep on her feet.

Ruth stood, almost knocking over her chair, and grabbed her overnight bag from underneath her desk. She walked towards the pods with her head down. She should have known that Harry would be watching her, and that he would intercept her escape.

She felt a hand take her bag from her, as Harry blocked her path to the pods.

"In my office, Ruth. Now."

She followed him in, and he deliberately turned and shut the door behind her.

"Sit on the sofa," he ordered, so she did. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on a chair, and rolling it towards her so that he and she were face-to-face.

"I'm tired, Harry. I need to go home."

"If you can wait ten minutes, I'll drive you home."

Ruth went to protest, but he lifted his fingers, and placed two of them on her lips, effectively preventing her from objecting. "I insist," he said. "I have a fair idea why you're tired. I'm tired also, and as soon as I finish my report, I'm driving you home, where I'll make you a quick dinner, and then put you to bed."

"Whose bed?"

"Whatever bed you want, Ruth. There are three beds in my house. I'd rather you were in mine, but the spare room is quite nice. It's quite …... feminine, unlike my own bedroom, which my daughter tells me resembles a monk's cell."

Ruth pulled his hand from her mouth, and looked at him. Despite her intention to be annoyed with him, she couldn't help but smile. "A monk's cell? That bad?"

"I call it functional. You can see it if you want, but first I'm going to feed you. When did you last eat?"

"Breakfast time at Barber's."

"Me too, but I ate a decent breakfast, unlike you. You only had that one piece of toast."

"You noticed what I ate?"

"I notice a lot of things, Ruth, and I've noticed how tired you are. If you sit here and rest, I'll finish my report, and then we can go home."

Ruth sat on the sofa while Harry worked. She should have taken herself home to her own place, but she didn't have the energy. Besides, she quite liked being with Harry. She liked it when he looked after her. She enjoyed watching his profile while he worked at his desk …... his hairline, his nose, his mouth …... that mouth …... She became fascinated by his hands ... his fingers ... the way they moved over the keys on the keyboard.

* * *

They drove home in near silence. Harry complained a few times about `idiot drivers', while Ruth stayed silent. She was too tired to talk, and far too tired to talk to Harry. Talking to Harry used up all of her reserves of energy.

Once at Harry's house, he led her upstairs, and ran water in the bath in his en suite, while he directed Ruth to the guest bedroom across the corridor.

"I can sleep at home, Harry. You don't have to do any of this."

"I want to take care of you, Ruth," he called out to her from the bathroom, from where delightfully fruity and pungent smells were emerging. Suddenly, Ruth was looking forward to her bath, and for the first time that she could remember, she was happy for Harry to be looking after her.

Once the bath was full, Ruth ventured into the bathroom with her own robe and a change of clothes. Harry stood aside, showing her the towels he'd put out for her. After he left the room, closing the door behind him, Ruth stripped, and stepped into the hot, sudsy water. Slowly she allowed herself to submerge, surrounding herself with warmth and sweet smells.

She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to let go of all the dross ... work; those she worked with, and who thought they had the right to comment on everything she and Harry did, or might have done; the ridiculous operation Harry had taken her on. What had they expected? It was decided at the last minute that she and Harry should infiltrate the Barber mansion, posing as a potential investor and his bit-on-the-side. It was doomed to failure from the start. Had they really needed to be at the Barber's mansion together? Couldn't Harry have handled the situation better on his own, without her to worry about? Thinking about it now, it seemed like a dangerous thing for them both to have done. She began to suspect that Harry simply wanted to have her to himself for the weekend.

Then, as she was almost asleep, her head comfortably rested on the end of the tub, Ruth had a realisation, one she was surprised she hadn't thought of before. Harry was lonely. Yes, he cared for her – that was obvious – but his chief motivation for wanting her with him, even if it was a potentially dangerous operation, was that he needed her company. He appeared strong, stoic, a lone wolf, but the truth was that he needed someone in his life, he craved the company of another warm body, and Ruth could only feel happy that it appeared he'd chosen her.


	4. Chapter 4

Ruth ate as much of Harry's delicious pasta bolognese as she could before the urge to sleep overcame her. She declined his offer of a glass of wine.

"You go ahead, Harry. Don't let me stop you."

"I won't," he replied, smiling across the table at her as he poured himself a glass of red.

When she'd finished eating, Ruth asked did he mind if she went straight to bed. She knew it was probably rude of her to do so, but she was past caring.

Harry accompanied her upstairs, and he waited outside the bathroom door while she cleaned her teeth. When she reached his side – just outside her bedroom door – he took her hand, and leaned down to kiss her. It was a simple, chaste, but very gentle kiss. Ruth was glad he had felt the need to walk her to her bedroom door and kiss her goodnight, even if it was not quite 9 pm on a Saturday night. As she closed the guest bedroom door behind her, the feel of Harry's kiss still on her lips, Ruth was reminded of their one and only date, only a few weeks previously, and how Harry had kissed her chastely after he'd walked her to the door. She'd felt like a 16-year-old, anticipating a goodnight kiss from a boy she liked. Ruth's head hit the pillow, and after that she was dream-free until morning.

When she awoke the sun was up, but the house was quiet. She had no idea whether Harry was up, or still asleep. Donning her bathrobe over her flannelette pyjamas, she went to the loo, and then ventured downstairs, where all was quiet. She made herself a mug of tea, and sat at Harry's kitchen table, contemplating the situation in which she now found herself. When Harry had suggested she go home with him, she'd not thought too much about it. As she saw it, Harry was lonely, and she was in need of someone to look after her. They'd met one another's temporary needs, and that was all. The kissing and fumbling under clothing they'd engaged in at the Barber mansion had been an extension of those needs …... were they not?

Were they anything else, anything more, then maybe she was already out of her depth. She knew she was out of her depth …... out of her depth, and already in love with her boss.

Not knowing Ruth was already up, Harry lay awake in his bed, having slept as soundly as Ruth. He was lying under his duvet, wondering what he should say to convince her to stay with him for the day. Maybe asking her would be a good place to start. Having decided on that as a starting strategy, he got out of bed, went to the loo, washed his hands and face, and then put on a bathrobe to go downstairs. He'd heard her get up, and so he hoped that him being in night attire would not seem too familiar, too forward. What was he thinking? Less than 24 hours previously they had become _very_ familiar and forward with one another.

Harry met her on the stairs as Ruth was making her way back to her room.

"Good morning," he said, a little embarrassed to be seeing her like this, with both of them in his house – although it _had_ been his idea – and both in their night attire.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, stopping on the stair below the one on which he was standing. She looked down and away from him before she continued. "I thought I might get dressed and go home. I have to wash my clothes. I've run out of clean clothes, and …..."

"If you can wait an hour, I'll drive you home. I have to go into work for a few hours. I have some things to tie up from yesterday's operation."

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

_Yes, _he thought. _ I want you to come with me, and I never want to let you out of my sight again. _ "No, that's fine, Ruth," he said. "Get some rest. Spend the day doing nothing." He smiled at her in a way which left her breathless.

Ruth took a couple of steps past him, and then turned to face his retreating back.

"Harry," she said.

"Yes?" His face as he turned to look at her told her that he wanted to say something different. He wanted to say, `Please stay with me, Ruth'. He wanted to say, `Don't leave me here alone.' Ruth knew that the right thing to do would be to go home, and leave Harry to sort out what it was he wanted. Did he want company, or did he want to begin a relationship with her? Did he perhaps want both?

"What is it you want …... with me?"

Ruth hadn't meant to say that. Her mind had planned for her to ask him to visit her after he'd finished work, and maybe they could do something together …... have lunch, dinner, and …...? But her mouth had asked him _that_ question, the question to which she _really_ wanted answers.

"Do you have to ask?"

"Yes …... I do. I can't tell what it is you want."

Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe, and his eyes stared at her from three steps below where she stood. Very slowly he began to climb back to her level.

"I want everything, Ruth," he said huskily, standing too close to her, his face only marginally above hers, now he stood two stairs below the one on which she stood. "Everything you are, everything you have to give, to share …... and I want to share myself with you in the same way."

Ruth swallowed, finding it difficult to concentrate on what was being said ... what was _really_ being said. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She fought an urge to lean against him - solid and immoveable - and be swallowed up in his embrace.

"Do you mean sex?" she blurted out.

Harry continued to stare at her, and Ruth continued to feel exposed, naked under his gaze. "Among other things. Sex isn't everything, but it's important. You do desire me, don't you, Ruth? Or am I misreading the signals? What happened yesterday in our room wasn't just us playing along according to our legends …... was it? Because it wasn't for me."

Ruth shook her head, unable to find the right words. Without thinking about it, she reached out and put her hand on his cheek, and rubbed her thumb under his bottom lip. God, she loved his lips! His skin was raspy with a day's beard growth. Somehow, for reasons she could not explain, Ruth found his day-old stubble to be incredibly sexy, the kind of sexy which had her knees trembling with the thought of it, and touching it, rubbing her thumb across it left her breathless. She reached up and placed her lips on his, carefully, tentatively, exploring his lips, along with all the possibilities now open to them.

Ruth opened her eyes as she was kissing him, and noticed his eyes open, and watching her as he kissed her back. She began to giggle, and she pulled away from him as she almost collapsed from her giggling. Harry reached out his hands, and slipped them around her shoulders, pulling her against him, and letting her laugh, cry, whatever she needed to do against his shoulder. He kissed her hair, once, twice, and then on the third time, Ruth lifted her head and intercepted with her own lips. She wanted Harry's lips on hers. That was where they belonged.

Which was when the kissing became something more. They were again back in their plush bedroom at the Barber manor, lying together on their large bed, exploring one another freely. Without thinking about it, Ruth slid her arms around Harry's waist inside his bathrobe. As she sought to get closer to his skin, she untied the belt, and pushed her hands under his t-shirt. She moaned into his mouth as her hands connected with his skin – the skin of his stomach, his sides, and then his back. God, he felt good. His body was so warm. When Harry took his mouth from hers and ran his lips down her chin to her throat, her neck, and then inside the collar of her pyjama top, she knew that were they to continue, Harry would not get to work.

Reluctantly, Ruth pulled away from him, removing her hands from his skin. He sighed heavily, his eyes still closed. "Ruth," he said. It was a cry, a plea for clemency.

"I want to do this, Harry. I want …... more …... but you have to go to work, and I have to go home."

"Later?" he asked, his eyes lazily watching her.

She nodded, and stepped away from him.

* * *

When Harry dropped her off at her house an hour and a quarter later, he leaned over and kissed her goodbye, saying, "I'll call you when I leave work. We can ..."

"Spend the rest of the day together."

"Yes," he said, pulling away from her, "and tonight as well. This time you'll not be sleeping in the guest bedroom."

Ruth nodded her assent, and got out of the car, and walked up the path to her house. She turned and waved to him as she reached her doorway. Being with Harry in this way no longer frightened or confused her. It suddenly felt so right.

* * *

It was much later that he rang her from work. He apologised for being late, but she said she understood, and that she'd been able to put all her washing through the washer, and clean her house, something she managed only rarely. What she omitted to tell him that the energy in her body from anticipating what the rest of the day would bring had given her the zing to be able to clean her house from top to bottom. It had never been so clean.

When Harry arrived to pick her up, he'd removed his tie, and suggested she bring with her the clothes she planned to wear to work next day.

"You might like to bring some clothes to sleep in too, Ruth, but I don't imagine you'll need them."

Ruth looked over at him as he spoke, and saw that he was serious. "If you need sleeping clothes," he added quickly, "I have plenty of t-shirts that are too tight on me."

After Ruth had put out enough food for Fidget to last a couple of days, Harry helped carry her clothes out to the car.

"I feel like I'm heading off on a dirty weekend," she said.

"No, just a dirty Sunday night," he replied, smiling down at her as she clipped the seat belt in place.

* * *

Harry decided that in order to stretch out the anticipation of their time together, it would be best were they to go out to eat. He suggested a casual Italian restaurant only two blocks from his house.

"We can walk there, Ruth."

"And we can hold hands as we walk," Ruth added. For some reason her thoughts were becoming her words. She may need to be more careful.

The restaurant was rustic, staffed by real Italians, with genuine Italian accents, and the food was exquisite. The lighting was just bright enough for them to be able to see their food, and summon a waiter from the other side of the room. It was casual, but romantic …... tasty, but not expensive …... and the company was as good as it gets. Ruth noticed Harry relax as soon as they sat down. The smile he gave her as he sat back in his chair was one she would later call upon when she needed to remember his face while they were apart – even if only for a few hours. After checking with her first, he ordered for her, adding a bottle of house chianti to their order.

"The chef here is a woman. She's wonderful. You'll meet her later."

The waiters knew Harry by name, and they all greeted him, and when he introduced Ruth to Fabrice, the chef's husband, the chef was called out from the kitchen to meet her.

"Viviana, this is Ruth. She's Harry's lady. I need you to make her the best gnocchi you have ever made. We need Harry to bring this lovely lady back here. What do you say?"

"Consider it done. My dear Ruth, I have my very own sauce for the gnocchi, and I've been saving it just for you. It's my grandmother's recipe, passed down to her from her own grandmother. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it. Isn't that right, Fabrice?"

Ruth laughed at the attention of Viviana and Fabrice. They made her feel welcome, special, just as Harry had made her feel special by bringing her here for dinner, somewhere he ate regularly and was known. Harry smiled as she looked across the table at him, her eyes shining. At that moment, he wanted to tell her he loved her, but there would be time enough for that later.

When it was time to order dessert, Ruth put her hand on her tummy and shook her head.

"I can't, Harry. I can't fit it in."

"You have to, Ruth, otherwise Viviana will be offended. You have to try her Tartufo di Pizzo. As she tells it the recipe was passed down to her by her father's mother, herself born in Calabria."

"She probably bought it at the market," Ruth quipped, not really meaning it.

"I'll order a serving, and we can share it," Harry said, smiling at her with his eyes. He could not remember the last time he'd felt this happy.

When Harry and Ruth left the restaurant, Fabrice and Viviana saw them to the door, and kissed them each on both cheeks. They walked down the street hand in hand, their bellies full, and their faces smiling. They talked little, each knowing that they were walking back to Harry's house, and that meant that their lives were about to change.

* * *

**_A/N: Yes, I know I'm dragging this out, and that is cruel, but things get quite ... er, personal in the final two chapters. I imagine Harry & Ruth would want to build the anticipation before they did anything._**


	5. Chapter 5

They each secretly watched the other over their cups of tea. They were putting off the moment when together they'd climb the stairs to bed. Harry had offered to make them a pot of tea, and Ruth had answered, `Good idea.'

"Did you find out who the weapons were for?" Ruth asked. "What organisation?"

"Do you really want to know, or are you just making conversation, Ruth?"

She smiled at him, and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Both …... but I can wait until tomorrow to find out about the weapons."

"Yes, you can." He carefully put his cup down on the table. "This is our time now. Those weapons can't touch us here …... now."

It was time. They each stood up, and met in the kitchen doorway, where he took her in his arms, and kissed her, deeply, thoroughly. They walked up the stairs, he ahead of her. He stopped on the stairs twice to turn and again hold her close to him, and run his hands over her shoulders, her arms, her back, her buttocks.

When they reached the landing, she was the one to grasp his hand and turn him to face her while she took his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth, running the tip of her tongue over his lips through her open mouth. He sighed, backed her against the wall, and pressed himself against her, running his palms down her sides, to her thighs, to the hem of her skirt, and thence up her legs, under her skirt. One hand grasped her buttocks, while the other crept towards the delights which he already knew lay between her legs. Ruth sighed into his mouth.

"Harry," she whispered against his lips, "bedroom. We have to -"

"I know. I'm just -"

"Having a sneak preview."

Ruth breathed out heavily, and squirmed under the touch of his fingers against her underwear. She would have to move them on. He seemed quite content to continue what he'd started against the hall wall, but she needed a bed ….. a warm, soft bed. She stepped away from him, eliciting a groan from him, as her body slid away from him, and his hands fell from her buttocks, and from between her legs. She was hot, and he'd felt her already wet through the fabric of her knickers.

Ruth took Harry's hand, and led him towards his bedroom door. His pupils were dilated, and he seemed to need her to guide him. She'd felt his erection against her body, and looking to the front of his jeans, it appeared that the blue denim could barely contain him.

Inside his bedroom, Ruth asked him to turn on a lamp, while she turned off the main light. For what they were about to do they needed soft, muted light. She looked around her to the room ….. more functional than monk's cell, it was decorated in plain, dark colours. It was clear to her that the room was used for sleeping and dressing and undressing, and little else. It was a practical room, but said little about the man who slept there.

He turned to watch her walk towards him. Since they'd left the kitchen he'd barely spoken.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked.

He nodded, as he reached for her, his hands moving over her clothing, searching for access to skin.

"We have to get undressed," she said, reaching for his shirt buttons, and undoing them quickly, while his hands rubbed over her breasts outside her clothing. "Help me take your clothes off, Harry. You can take mine off if you want."

Harry's only response was to push his body against her, so that his erection pressed against her belly through their clothing. He thrust himself against her a few times, and then his hand found its way under her skirt, and one hand slipped under her shirt to grasp her breast through her bra, while the fingers of his other hand again rubbed her through her underwear, while he buried his face in her neck, and sucked on the skin beneath her ear. Occasionally a finger from the hand between her legs found its way under her knickers to slide against her hot, wet skin. Ruth gave up trying to undress him, and slid her hands under his shirt, and massaged the muscles of his back. This felt wonderful. He felt wonderful, and if he kept doing what he was doing, they'd still not make it into bed.

Slowly Ruth pulled her body away from him, so that his hands fell to his sides. She'd never seen him like this. She'd never seen him this aroused, was what she meant. When they'd been in their room at the manor – _was that only yesterday?_ - she had felt him hard against her, and he'd seemed like himself, he'd been just like Harry, confident and in charge. Suddenly, Harry took a deep breath, and sighed heavily. He looked at her with sad eyes.

"I've been waiting for you to change your mind," he said, barely above a whisper. "I thought I'd better touch you as much as I could before you ran away." He took another deep breath, and let it out in a shudder. "I was sure that when you saw me naked you wouldn't want me."

"Harry …..." Ruth stepped a little closer to him, and took his face between both her hands. Again she felt the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks, and she rubbed her thumbs over the prickly hairs. "Harry," she said again, her face close to his, ensuring he was looking at her. "I want you, and I want you now. I want you naked, and I want you in that bed …... that one behind me. I want you to put that -" She took one hand from his cheek, and pressed her palm firmly over his erection, causing his eyes to open wider. " - inside me, and wiggle it around a bit, and make us both scream out one another's names. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, and smiled.

"Do you want to see me naked, Harry?"

He nodded. "Very much. You can't imagine how much."

"I want to see you naked just as much. I _need_ to see your naked body. That's what people do when they make love. I'm well aware you're no longer thirty-five. If I wanted a young and buff body, I'd be out looking for one. I'm here with you now because I want _your_ body, Harry. It's you I want."

Harry nodded, stepped away from Ruth, and began to take off his clothes, and drop them on the floor beside where he stood. His eyes never left her while she removed her own clothing. They stood in front of one another, she wearing just her knickers, and he in his trunks. They each allowed their eyes to travel hungrily over the body of the other. To Harry, she looked like the Goddess he knew her to be. Mostly, he was relieved that she hadn't run away in fright when she saw his almost naked body. "Lovely," was all she said, as her eyes travelled over all of him. When Harry reached out a hand to touch her, she pushed it away.

"Just eyes, Harry. First we make love with our eyes."

After a few minutes of eyes only, Ruth took his hand, and led him to the bed. She climbed up first, and he followed her, his eyes watching her buttocks as she crawled across the mattress. Had it been possible for him to get any harder, the sight of those full buttocks underneath her skimpy knickers would have done that for him. Dear God, he wanted her so much. They settled down, with the duvet covering them to their waists, giving Harry a clear view of Ruth's breasts. He couldn't take his eyes from them. They were beautiful, perfect in every way. Not too big, nor too small, they were just right.

"I want to take one of your breasts in my mouth," he said at last.

In reply, Ruth reached behind his head, and drew it to her breast, where he covered her with his mouth, while his tongue slid all around the nipple, before it flicked over it, and then back, and then around, before he took the nipple in his teeth, and bit it lightly. While he'd been playing with her nipple, his hand had wandered down her body, under the duvet, until his fingers again slid over her underwear, a finger occasionally slipping under the material to her wet folds. By the time Harry began on her other breast, he had two fingers inside her, and he was pushing them into her, finding the spot on her vaginal walls where she gasped, and squirmed under him. He removed his fingers, and then slipped off her knickers with the one hand, his elbow shifting the duvet so that when he at last lifted his head from her breasts, he could see her – all of her.

While he'd been pleasuring her, Ruth had pushed the duvet from their bodies, and touched him through his underwear. He was very hard, and hot, and when she grasped him with her hand, he twitched under her fingers. She looked up at him to see him smiling at her.

"You want to see it, don't you?"

"What woman wouldn't?"

"There have been quite a number who've declined my offer, Ruth."

"Then they all needed their heads examining."

Ruth tried to remove his trunks with one hand, but Harry took both his hands from her body, and slid his trunks off, and kicked them from his ankles, and on to the floor.

"Good God," Ruth said, as she looked at him, fully erect, and hard as any penis she'd seen in her life …... not that she'd seen that many.

"Do you mean that literally, Ruth?"

She gently touched him with her fingers while she reached up to kiss him on the lips.

"If there is a God, then she's definitely good. You're …... surprising …... in every way."

They lay on their sides, a little apart, and observed the body of the other. Harry reached out with his fingers, and ran his fingertips from one nipple to the crevice between her legs. As he was about to seek out her wetness, she took his hand away, and then ran her own fingertips from his bottom lip, down his throat and neck, via his nipples, across his chest and belly, and to his penis. Her fingertips ran the length of him, to his tip, and then down the other side, over his balls, and down one leg as far as she could reach. She then took her fingers back the way she had come, taking her time over his erection. When she feathered his fingers over his tip, he groaned, and turned her on to her back, parting her legs with his hands.

He lifted himself so that he was laying between her legs, his erection resting very close to her entrance.

"I'm sorry, Ruth, but I can't wait. I have to be inside you."

He gently eased himself into her, and she sighed, arching her neck so that he was able to kiss her, and lick her from her throat up to her ear. Then he began moving inside her, slowly at first, and carefully. Ruth opened her eyes and watched him as he pushed into her, and then pulled out. If she looked down to where they were joined she could see his shaft moving in and out of her. She was amazed that she and Harry were managing to do this together, after everything that had happened between them. Harry then reached down and took one of her nipples between his lips. He rolled it around between his lips, and then worried it with his tongue. Ruth felt so tight in her pelvis that she thought she'd burst.

Harry came first, calling out her name, and thrusting harder and faster, and so by the time he rested inside her, Ruth felt her own orgasm build up, and ripple through her. The pulsing of her muscles had Harry moaning again from deep in his throat. `Christ, Ruth,' was all he said before he rested against her, taking his weight on his elbows, and letting his head rest next to her own. He turned his head slightly, and kissed her cheek.

They lay that way for some time, exhausted, spent, and very satisfied. When his flaccid penis slid out of her, he moved off her and lay beside her. When he got his breath back, he turned on his side so that he could see her. She had her face turned towards him, and she was smiling at him.

"I'm sorry I had to speed things up, Ruth. I wanted to come while I was inside you, not before."

Ruth reached up with her hand, and ran her fingers along his cheek. "You were wonderful," she said. "That was wonderful."

"But I only gave you one orgasm."

"Harry, I've been with men who didn't seem to care if I had no orgasm at all."

"Give me their names and addresses, and I'll have them neutralised."

"You mean that, don't you?"

"In a way, yes. I can't bear to think of you being treated like that. I was hoping to give you at least three orgasms."

"Harry …... we have plenty more time for that. We were both tense, and we needed release with you inside me. That's what our first time was about. That, and familiarising ourselves with the other. Next time …... and the time after …... and the time after that -"

"You'll expect multiple orgasms."

"I'll be very happy with one, but I won't say no to more. I'm just relieved we've managed to do this."

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke. "Ruth," he said carefully, "I've wanted this since before we went out to dinner …... and I have to ask you this …... why now? Why not that night at Havensworth, or any of the other times when I tried to get close to you?"

Ruth waited just as long to answer him, not because she didn't have an answer, but because she didn't know how to say it. After what they'd just done, her reasons seemed petty. She ran her fingers up and down his arm while she spoke.

"I …... I had so many reasons why I believed we should never allow ourselves to get this close. You're my boss, the others we work with will gossip -"

"They'll gossip about us anyway."

"I know that now. I was afraid of you …..."

"_Afraid_ of me – why?"

"You're very masculine, Harry, and very …... you give off a lot of sexual energy, whether you mean to or not. I was sure – certain even – that I'd not be enough for you, that I'd disappoint you, and so we'd be over before we began, because you'd tire of me. I couldn't bear that, so it was easier for me to push you away, and content myself with fantasising about you, about what might have been had I been more …... more confident about myself."

"I wish I'd known that, Ruth. We could have dispensed with all the misunderstandings. I was sure that once you went to dinner with me, you no longer fancied me."

"Quite the opposite." Ruth waited for a minute or two before she continued speaking. "Harry …... do you …... you know, fantasise about me?"

"What you're asking me is do I masturbate while I'm imagining being with you, making love to you?"

"By that answer, I'm supposing your answer is yes."

"A most definite yes."

"Where? Where are you when you do that?"

"Here. In this bed, imagining you're with me, and in the shower, after I wake up in the morning, and -"

"And you're hard."

"Yes."

"How often?" she continued.

"Often enough."

"Which means …...?"

"Often enough that I don't jump you every time I see you." He cleared his throat before he continued. "Have you? Do you …...?"

"Yes, of course. You've filled my nights for some time now, Harry."

"We're a pair of duffers, aren't we? Imagine us wasting all that wonderful sexual energy alone, when we could have been doing it together."

"I guess that's down to me, Harry."

"What changed your mind?"

"Yesterday, at the manor, when you began to touch me and kiss me. I thought, what am I doing turning away from this man? So, I thought were you ever to show me that you wanted me, I'd say yes this time."

They exchanged soft and sleepy kisses, each murmuring their appreciation, talked a little more, and being relaxed, eventually fell asleep in one another's arms.

.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: This is the final chapter of this fic, and I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Thank you to those who have taken time out to review. I may have gone a bit too far in this chapter, but the characters wanted it, so who am I to refuse Harry & Ruth?**_

* * *

By the time Ruth opened her eyes, Harry had left the bed, showered and dressed, and was downstairs making them breakfast. Ruth stood under the shower, hot water spraying over her very well-loved body. She could feel the muscles of her inner thighs, stiff and sore from misuse, which she'd used to accommodate Harry's body lying between her legs. _Everything_ about her body felt wonderful.

When she went downstairs, Harry was sitting down finishing his breakfast. He smiled at her when she walked into the room. She crossed to his chair, and putting her hands either side of his face, kissed him good morning. He put a hand behind her head, and drew her down for a good snog. She sighed as she came up for air.

"You smell so good," she said, smiling into his eyes.

"So do you. Were we not due at work in less than an hour, I'd be throwing off my clothes and yours, and having you right here on the kitchen table."

"Maybe after work," she said, sitting in the chair opposite him, preparing to pour herself a cup of tea.

"Do you mean that, Ruth? I'd like you to come back here after work. By then, we'll no doubt be ready to go again."

Harry's pupils were again dilated, and his breathing had become heavy. He'd put down his cup of tea, and pushed his plate away from in front of him. Ruth thought about walking back to his chair, slipping down her knickers, and sitting on him. A rapid shag before work. By the look on Harry's face, she expected he was thinking something similar.

"All you have to do is say the word, Harry. I'm already rather wet." She felt her breathing becoming heavy and shallow, and she began – perhaps unconsciously – to open the buttons on her blouse, and to pinch her nipples through the material of her bra. She couldn't take her eyes from Harry's, as she slipped one of her hands inside her bra, released her breast, and pinched her nipple in full view of him. Her body was already very hot, and her pelvis was tight, as tension built up inside her. Harry's hand had gone to the front of his trousers, and because of the table, she couldn't see what he was doing, but it looked like he was opening his zip, and reaching inside.

"Come here," he said huskily, reaching out with his other hand.

She got up, and pulled off her blouse, throwing it over the back of her chair. When she reached Harry's side, she could see that he'd opened his zip, undone the buttons on his trousers, and had freed his penis, in the process of hardening, and was rubbing his hand along its length, sliding his thumb over the tip when his hand reached the end. He let go of it for a moment as he used both his hands to slide his trousers and underwear off, and down to his knees. She stepped close to him, and kissed him. Their mouths were open, and their tongues plunged deeply into the other's mouth. Ruth reached down with her hand, and grasped his penis, massaging him slowly, feeling him harden in her hand.

"Take off your bra," Harry said hoarsely against her mouth, as he put both his hands up under her skirt, and pushed aside her knickers, and thrust two fingers inside her.

She stood up and removed her bra, and as she was doing that, he pulled off her knickers, ripping them in his haste.

"That's torn it. I only brought one spare pair with me."

"Then you'll have to go to work knickerless," he said before he pulled her down to sit across his knees, while he busied his mouth with her breasts. He held one hand against her lower back, while with his other hand, he reached between them, pushed aside her skirt, and again plunged two fingers into her, thrusting them in and out of her. She came quickly, panting against the top of his head. He was _so_ good at this.

"I want to sit on you," she said, but he ignored her while he again pushed his fingers into her, and with his thumb, he vibrated her clitoris, and his lips grasped her nipple and sucked it into his mouth. When she again climaxed, she thought she'd never stop. He pulled his fingers out of her, and put both his arms around her and held her while she breathed through her orgasm.

When she was able to again take her weight on her legs, she lifted herself up and forward, and with one hand, she grasped his erection and guided him inside her. She sat still for a moment while she allowed herself to get used to the feel of him at this angle.

"All you have to do is move once or twice, Ruth. I'm so close to coming," and he sighed heavily, burying his face in her neck, sucking hungrily on her skin.

She lifted herself up in order to take him fully inside her. She pulled away from him slightly, and felt his thumb again vibrate across her clitoris. _Is he trying to kill me?_ Ruth was about to lift herself up again, when her next orgasm took her by surprise, and she sat down quickly, her muscles pulsing around Harry's erection. She heard him groan, pull her closer to him, and she felt his release inside her, as his penis twitched, and he breathed her name against her throat. Ruth put her arms around Harry's shoulders while she finished climaxing, and then let her head rest on his shoulder.

"I vote we do that every morning at breakfast," he said against her ear. "That was …... that was …."

"Fucking brilliant," Ruth said.

"Brilliant fucking," Harry added, pulling his head away from hers to smile at her, his hair a mess, and his eyes lazy with after-loving.

The sex had lasted only a few minutes, but their cuddling, with her sitting across his lap, his penis still inside her, and their arms around one another, took at least another ten.

They only pulled apart when Harry's phone rang from inside the pocket of his jacket, which hung over the back of his chair. He reached around behind him to pull it out of the jacket pocket, indicating to Ruth that she should stay where she was.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice still husky. "Yes, that was my intention... Yes... No, I hadn't heard about it... No, Ruth Evershed and I and Malcolm Wynn-Jones will be working on following the weapons. We're still not certain who was buying. …... Don't worry about that, Home Secretary. I'll put Zafar Younis and Joanna Portman on to that. Yes. …... No, I'll be there within the hour. I've had some calls to make before I left home, so I'm running late. …... Yes, I haven't forgotten our meeting at ten. Goodbye." Harry closed the phone, and smiled up at Ruth. They'd both felt him slip out of her while he was speaking to the Home Secretary.

"You are really good at the bullshitting side of your job, Harry."

"I could hardly tell him that I might be late because my senior intelligence analyst and I simply had to shag at the breakfast table, and that I'm late for work because she's still sitting on me, and I can't bear to pull out of her."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they had cleaned and tidied themselves, pulled their clothing back on, and were in Harry's car on their way to work.

"If we do that every morning, we're going to have to get up a half hour earlier," he said, as he entered the traffic at the end of his street, his eyes on the road.

"I think I can manage that. That was such a lovely surprise. I'll have breakfast when I get to work."

"Ruth, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to deprive you of your breakfast."

"I was a willing participant, Harry. Normally I don't much enjoy spontaneous sex, but that was ….."

"Wonderful. And you had three orgasms, too."

"Harry, I feel uncomfortable talking about orgasms as we're driving in to work."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. When we get home tonight -"

"You'll come home with me tonight?"

"Try and stop me. I have to go home first, and get some clothes, and some of my things …. like my hair-dryer. Which reminds me …... could you drop me off just before Thames House? I need to buy some knickers. You tore mine."

"Sorry. I seem to remember that your torn knickers are still under the kitchen table."

"Happy days."

Harry took a detour past some shops, and Ruth got out at the intersection when the traffic lights were red. She reached across and kissed Harry's cheek.

"See you in half an hour," she said.

"I'm disappointed you're not spending the day knickerless."

"And how much work would you and I get done were I sitting at my desk with both of us knowing I'm wearing no knickers?"

"I can only speak for myself," he replied, "and for me, that would be no work at all."

"See?" she said, and she stepped out of the car, and took off, dodging traffic

* * *

As Harry stepped on to the Grid, he called out to Zaf and Jo.

"In my office. Now."

"My guess is he's not handing out smiley stamps," Ros commented as she walked past Jo's desk.

"I have a job for you both," Harry began as soon as they entered his office. "It seems that this morning the head of security for southern prisons threw himself under a train at a tube station. The Home Office wishes Section D to make a plausible connection between the fire at Cotterdam Prison three days ago, and this man's death."

"Can we bring in Ruth to do the analysis?" Zaf asked.

"No, Zafar. Your skills of analysis should be adequate. This should be straightforward. Ruth will be working on the weapons raid we made over the weekend. She'll need to be doing that for at least the next two to three days. If you require an extra pair of hands, I'll run this situation past Adam. He might like some more time away from the Grid."

"Are there suspicious circumstances surrounding this guy's death, Harry?" asked Jo.

"Not so far, but there surely will be. Happily married, no money problems that we know of. You have to turn Mik Maudsley's life upside down and inside out, beginning with his bank statements. Added to that, you'll need to bring up anything you can find about the fire at Cotterdam. Who visited in the days prior? Who was there when the fire broke out? Look for anomalies. Don't overlook anyone – all staff, down to the most menial workers, plus all the casual staff. Go through that place with a fine-tooth comb."

Zaf and Jo left his office, and Harry busied himself checking his emails, and his phone messages. He was running a half hour behind schedule. The reasons for that were worth it in his opinion.

Harry had only just settled into a routine of speed-reading his emails, when Ruth walked on to the Grid. He deliberately didn't make eye contact with her until she was at her desk. They both knew why she'd walked in a little late. He allowed his mind to wander back to the moment when, in a hurry to sink his fingers into her, he'd ripped her knickers, and thrown them under the kitchen table. He looked up and saw Ruth looking at him. In his mind, her look said: _I've just bought several more pairs of knickers, all of which I expect you to rip off my body before we eat breakfast._ He quickly looked away from her, and attempted to again concentrate on reading his emails.

Things had only just settled down for him when he heard the door to his office opening, and then closing. Without looking up, he knew who it was.

"Harry," she said, without preamble, "I thought I might check with Andy Satchell at Six about the likely connections between those weapons and the South Africans. I'm sure South Africa is the connection, and that then brings Hennie Botha under the spotlight. He's been too quiet these past few years."

"There's a name I hadn't heard in a while."

"He's been off the radar for the past two years at least."

Harry nodded, almost not hearing what she'd said. "How many pairs did you buy?" he asked.

"Sorry, what?"

"You heard what I said."

"Harry …... this is work."

"I know it's work, Ruth. Humour me."

"I bought six pairs."

"What colour?"

"Three black and two purple, and one blue. I'm wearing the blue pair." _Now, why did I feel the need to tell him that?_

He nodded, imagining her in all three colours.

"Happy now?" Ruth asked.

He smiled at her and nodded. "I'll have to reimburse you for that, seeing I was the one who tore them."

"Harry …... as I've mentioned previously, I was a willing participant. I'm able to pay for my own underwear, thank you."

He smiled at her again, and nodded, noticing that she was wearing a scarf around her neck, a scarf he'd not seen before.

"I had to buy it to cover some …... marks on my neck."

"Left by me?"

She nodded, and looked down, his eyes on her too intense for this time of morning. Sensing her discomfort, he quickly filled her in about the suicide of Mik Maudsley.

"When did that happen?"

"Just before 7 this morning."

Harry watched as Ruth's mind turned over.

"So," she began, "while we were engaged in sexual congress, this poor man was throwing himself under a train."

"Sexual congress? Ruth, we were fu-"

"Harry! We're at work."

"Unfortunately …... yes, we are."

* * *

"Look at those two," Jo said to Zaf. "They're so sweet."

"I could never think of Harry as being sweet," he replied.

"Nest of vipers is a more apt description," Ros interjected, from where she was searching for a file on Ruth's desk. "I'll bet they're plotting world domination as we speak."

"Ruth? Dominating the world?" commented Zaf.

"Maybe not, but she sure dominates Harry," said Ros. "Look at them. It's pathetic the way she reels him in with that vestal virgin act."

Ros walked off, having already lost interest.

"I just wish they'd hurry up and do it," Jo said to Zaf.

"Who says they haven't?"

"Really? Do you think so? Surely not. It's clear they're up to something, though."

"What do you think they're talking about right now?" Zaf asked her.

Jo looked up, just as Ruth was describing the colours of the knickers she'd bought. She was counting the colours off on her fingers. 3 black, 2 purple and 1 blue.

"Something to do with that operation in Berkshire. She's probably listing all the guys at the manor who had South African accents."

"Yeah," Zaf replied. "They're hopeless, aren't they?"

"Hopeless," Jo agreed.

_Fin_


End file.
